The sound of rain on our roof used to be a comforting sound
soothing us to sleep knowing that the dry forest was soaking up the much needed
moisture. That all changed for me
Wednesday September 11, 2013. It had
been raining all week, which was not typical for Colorado. Wednesday night the pounding rain was
ferociously loud as it hammered down on our metal roof. The clamor kept me from sleep and naively my
biggest worry was the garage was taking in water. Eventually it was time to quit the game of
attempting to sleep and I was up. Yes, mattresses
under our climbing wall in the garage were soaking up water that was pouring in
and the skylights were beginning to dribble.
Pacing around our kitchen checking social media I started to
see how serious this all was. Andy
Morgan, the owner of the restaurant I work at The Dunraven Inn, phoned. “No work tonight the canyon is closed and
Marty (the chef) cannot get to town,” he informed me. He was driving around Estes Park on his way
to check on our livelihood, The Dunraven. As he drove he narrated what he was
seeing—water everywhere—flowing like a river down the Elkhorn Ave (the main
street in downtown Estes). Immediately
my friends came to mine, Karla who owns Ed’s Cantina located in downtown Estes and
Amy owner of Kind Coffee right next door.
Facebook posts let me know they were there saving what they could and
sandbagging vigorously with help of friends and family. My
thoughts were racing as soon as I get off
the phone I will change out of my pjs and I and go help them. As Andy’s narration continued about the new
pond surrounding the fun slide, my husband Adam’s phone rang—I just heard his
answer “No there is no other way out.
You better just come here.” “What
are you talking about” I asked. “Rothner
just called—he was camping up in Pierson Park and said he couldn’t get out of
Little Valley so I told him to come here,” Adam answered. My conversation with Andy ended quickly urging
him to call me back and let me know how the Dunraven was faring. “What
do you mean washed out?” I asked. Andrew Rothner, our friend and employee for
Adam’s Tree Service, soon showed up to answered this question himself, “There
is water flowing over the road with a truck stuck.” Not quite comprehending the severity of what
he was saying I went back to social media and checking on my friends who were
the folks in real trouble.
Soon we lost power but we were some of the lucky folks who
only went without for about and hour or two.
The relief to have power restored while being trapped was immense
although it was shadowed by the fear that it would be short lived. We decided to get our shit together and see
for ourselves what Little Valley road really looked like. The damage caused by the rain was astonishing
and at the time, unknown to us, it was just the beginning. Since
Andrew had seen the stuck truck half of the road that brings us in and out of
our neighborhood, Little Valley, was gone.
The rain that now flowed along the side road for about a half-mile
carved a huge ravine. As we walked
further the water switched sides of the road creating a riverbed in the middle
of the street and another ravine on the opposite side. All of this rainwater merged with what use to
be a small creek that flowed under Little Valley Road via a large culvert. This combined surge was too much for the culvert
and the water found it’s way up and over the road. A neighbor, Jack Burns, thought he could
drive over this new tributary that flowed across the road but instead wedged
his Toyota pickup in between what was left of asphalt. The surging river splashed up against the
side of the Toyota as he stood on the running board to get a few last things
out. Reality was setting in—when I heard
a truck was stuck in the road—I imagined someone pulling it out and a way
around; however, the new ravine that ran along Little Valley Road with edges still
collapsing, Burns truck beyond wedged in what use to be the road, the forecast
of more rain, the loss of the cell networks and internet was all compounding. We walked home in shock still not
comprehending how bad it was going to get for us and horrible for others.
We returned to a warm house and a hot shower, which took the
sting out of what we just saw. Thank God we have power was all I could
think. “We will get out tomorrow Adam
assured me” as I cooked for the boys that were either living in our house or
stranded with us including Bryce Klinikowski, Mike Wickwire, Andrew Rothner and
a neighbor Nick Smith. Not knowing what
was happening to my friends was constantly on my mind. We ate and drank the night and our worries away
and went to sleep to the sound of rain on the roof again.
On Friday the 13th of September we heard many
tales from neighbors that Fish Creek Road, the main road that intersects with
Little Valley Road was now a river. I
had major doubts that we would get out with two rivers to cross but Adam and
the boys were determined. We set out
with ropes, pulley, harnesses, rain gear, snacks, water and a set of dry socks stuffed
in our backpacks. When we got to Burns
Gulch (a newly adopted name for the tributary where Jack Burns got his truck
stuck) we saw that it widened twofold and was roaring. Jack’s truck was flipped and had traveled down
stream a ways where it was wedged and filled with mud and rocks. We skirted the ravine that grew over night devouring
entire sections of the road and turned into a waterfall feature to access the
narrowest part of Burn’s Gulch. We played to our strengths and encouraged
Bryce—whom we knew had jumping skills to take on the roaring gap. And he did landing on the other side with dry
feet. Soon the rope was up and we were
all across. It felt freeing being on the
other side as we turned our backs and headed towards our next obstacle of Fish
Creek Road.
Fish Creek Road was now a raging river with chunks of askew
asphalt jutting in multiple directions.
We were able to skirt this new obstacle and for the three and a half
miles as we zigzagged across and along what was Fish Creek Road. The missing road, exposed power lines, the
slabs of displaced asphalt, homes with water charging through them and propane lines
severed hissing into the air made it seem as if an earth quake or bombing had occurred.
In a daze we made our way into town
where civilization seemed to functioning—cars roaring by, people riding
bicycles and walking dogs. A little further
along our journey to procure supplies and hopefully an “outside” vehicle were
asked if we were refugees, which took us a minute to process and answer “yes.” We were given a ride to Liesl’s house, a friend
and coworker, who saved us by lending us her van. Overwhelmed with happiness when she opened
her door I had such a hard time explaining to her what we saw and where we just
came from which seemed so far away. So
relieved we did not have to reverse the journey and walk home we were totally
overwhelmed in the grocery store shopping for us and neighbors. Shockingly there was a lot on the shelves
(apparently a Safeway truck that was stocked for four stops was stuck in Estes
Park so we got our stores worth plus three) except for the disaster usuals: eggs,
milk, bread and water. We hit the liquor
store after that where my bewilderment got the best of me—I purchased an
alcohol free bottle of wine (I did not realize this until the next evening when
our neighbor Nick had us over for dinner—I had drank half of the alcohol free
wine the night before after I had finished a different bottle of wine—thinking
I was exceeding my allotment greatly—I wondered why I felt so good when I woke
up that morning).
Thankfully to Liesl and her van or journey home was reduced
dramatically from six miles to eventually about two-three miles. We crossed a horse meadow and encountered
Fish Creek still raging and set up another rope traverse—this time the jump
across for Bryce was bigger and his feet got wet. Safe on the other side of one of our main obstacle
we debated the best way through the woods home.
I have spent many years living and hiking in Little Valley and was able
to navigate us directly to a trail that borders our property. When we the hit
the trail I felt victorious our small mission was complete and soon we would be
home—so appreciative that we still had a home after what we saw.
The next few days were a waiting game as we watched more
dirt erode away along Little Valley road leaving a 40 by 100 foot hole at one
point. We were beyond extremely fortunate
to have a local excavator working on Little Valley Road over the following week
carving a new topsoil road out of the sides of peoples properties. Our journey got shorter when the adjacent neighborhood,
Rockwood Estates, got access out. Now we
just had a half-mile hike along the trail to an amazing family’s house the
Millers who helped us get to our refugee van procuring more supplies and
helping us get seven evacuees out with some luggage and a cat. Bits of hope were also accompanied by extremely
upsetting news like “the excavators are not coming back”, “you have ten minutes
to evacuate your home for the winter”, “you will not return to your home until
after next summer”, “you will not get your vehicles out until after next
summer.” The excavators, Kearney and Sons, did come back and created a road where
there was none over a week’s time. Eventually
the town of Estes Park decided to help our little neighborhood out and built us
a temporary bridge that crossed Fish Creek.
The following Thursday after the storm the 20st of September
I was extremely fortunate that I drove to work, which was surreal indeed
knowing that the road was gone and drivable within a weeks time.
Four days later we got cell service back and internet connecting
us to friends and family (we did have on neighbor that retained internet and
was generous to share this access). This
is when I started to truly realize how fortunate we were. So many had lost everything. Our friends in Glen Heaven, Scott and Leah
DeCapio, lost their home, studio, car and shop.
Others like Erika (friend and co-worker) were still stranded in their
neighborhood, the Retreat, waiting for a Schnook to come get them out. They still can only get to their home by a
six mile hike but are hoping to get vehicles out before the winter; however,
they will not be able to live in their homes until after next summer— on the
bright side—at least they have homes.
We were definitely hit economically losing a lot of access
to jobs Adam had lined up for the fall and the tourists have not been pouring
into town at the typical fall rate. But
as a weeks pass and the government opened up we have had visitors not canceling
their vacations, driving the long way around (since our major roads are still
not open) doing what they can to support the Estes Valley Community. We are fortunate, we had doors to open and
people came. Karla and Ed’s and Amy and
Kind Coffee will have to wait but they are keeping positive and taking the
proper steps to reopen and improve while they have the chance. FEMA and the SBA have been outstanding to
everyone I have spoken with during this disaster including ourselves. The community of Estes Park all come together
and grew. I am so impressed with so many people
witnessing such strength and fortitude in friends, acquaintances and strangers. This was the craziest shit I have ever seen
and hope to ever see. I had no clue rain
could do so much damage but now I know. I also learned that we all have what it
takes to move forward and I am proud to be part of such a strong community.
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| 9/12/13 where our road intersects with Little Valley Rd |
Melissa - fantastic account of the flood. Thanks for taking the time to write it all down. With the news last night that Hwy 36 is reopening on Monday, I continued to be stunned and so grateful at how quickly things are getting back to "normal" (whatever that means!).
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